the acid generation..
[more musical amusement from the dark depths of my record collection]
“chicago our inspiration, acid our destination……..”
Chicago may have the claim to fame as the birthplace of acid-house, but it was London where it really hit, and came to life. It’s arrival in the late 80s, hopelessly unprepared for, was like the perfect storm, swallowing up everything that had come before it, laying waste to the dregs of that self-centred decade and redrawing the city’s music and cultural map forever..
Of course fashion-conscious London was as eager to see the back of acid-house, as it was to welcome it when it first arrived. To many it was just a fad. One to be cashed in on, and then demonized & discarded as the next variation/mutation in style and music began to emerge. Fair enough - we all got sick of the ubiquitous acid smiley t-shirts that briefly became all the rage. But truth is I was never one for that trendy side of big city life, or for the addictive potential of the drugs and alcohol so easily available on every street corner. However, for some reason I let my guard down long enough to get hooked on this new sound, with it’s snake like rhythms of pulsing 303 bliss, tempting me into a new vivid world of chromatic excess, psychedelic abandon and acid madness..
Maybe it was a throw back to my mother’s own ‘experimental’ youth and my desire to relive it, but differently, or maybe I was simply in the mood to be metaphorically hung upside down by my skinny ankles and watch as my whole world fell out of my pockets and into the swirling musical abyss awaiting below. Either way I was down for the ride, and while London was predictably moving on to new sounds, I was instead digging deeper. In fact if it hadn’t been for acid-house I don’t think I’d ever made it out to San Francisco. London had acid-house, San Francisco the acid-tests. It didn’t take long for the parallels to become obvious, and there was no where else for my friends and I to go, but to get on the plane and make the 5000 mile intercontinental connection. And I’m glad we did, though the myths of course turned out to be bigger than real life. All that was really left to see of SF’s 60’s psychedelic revolution was the greying Grateful Dead scene, and a few touristy tye-dye stores on Haight St. What goes up must come down? It didn’t really matter though - we brought our own flavor of musical revolution with us from the UK, one that went on to dominate locally for a big chunk the 90’s. Sure we’ve all moved on from that time too, and thank-god, but I’ll always have a moment or two to stop and reminisce on the magical journeys the music back then helped provide, upwards and outwards to the farthest perimeters of the body, soul and mind. True, coming back/down from such euphoric abandon wasn’t always easy, but being away makes you appreciate what you’ve been away from all the more, and helped us all (I hope) appreciate the realities of real life for what they are - a struggle, a pleasure, but above all a gift..
to be cherished… : )
acid is dead, but long live the acid generation.
